The 7th Tarot Card (22 page)

We ended
our tour in her custom gourmet kitchen which, not surprisingly, had top-of-the-line appliances in brushed stainless steel. “And here is my kitchen,” she proudly announced. “The heart of my home.” If the kitchen is the heart of the home, then mine needed a pacemaker.

I
ducked into the powder room for a moment to freshen up, and looked around. This room was a mixture of red, gold, and black. The mirror and several pieces of art work were framed in gold, and a black marble vanity and sink added a striking touch. White crown molding and white stone flooring accented the dramatic walls, painted a deep shade of red. I hate red walls. Something about them makes me angry. I can’t explain it.

Laini and Mark came through the
front door just as I exited the powder room. Like a couple of lovebirds, they held hands and gazed into each other’s eyes. Nothing like a brush with death to revitalize a marriage. I smiled and hugged them both hello.

Fortunately
for me they were dressed casually tonight, since my indigo jeans and white fleece, quarter-zip pullover clashed with Leland’s and Courtney’s power suits. Mark stood relaxed and comfortable in khaki slacks and a navy polo. Laini practically floated in, radiating happiness in her “hippie cool” floor length floral dress, long beaded necklace, and leather bejeweled sandals.

Always the perfect hostess, Amanda made sure we had cocktails in hand,
then gave Mark and Laini a quick tour. I made small talk with Leland and Courtney until they returned, which was easy since Leland talked about himself while Courtney and I listened with feigned interest. At least mine was feigned. I can’t vouch for Courtney. But hey, how interesting can Leland’s new wine cellar be? Maybe Courtney was collecting material for his next book, Lifestyles of the Rich and Snobbish.

When I realized I hadn
’t checked my cell phone in a while, I excused myself and went to the guest room to retrieve it. The small inside pocket of my purse that usually housed my phone was empty, so I started combing through the oodles of unnecessary items that somehow find their way into my bag. Unable to locate it, I impatiently dumped the entire contents out onto the floor but, to my dismay, the cell phone was missing. I mentally kicked myself as I realized I must have left it in my car. Now I would have to go back down to that creepy parking garage to get it. I repacked my purse, positioning my Taser close to the top, left the room and ran into Laini, Mark, and Amanda as they completed their tour.

“
Where are you going with your bag?” Amanda asked with knitted brows. “Leland didn’t insult you again did he?”

“
No, don’t worry—Leland is fine. I just realized I left my phone in my car and I’m expecting a call. I’ll just run down and get it and be right back.”

“
I’ll go with you,” Laini said.

“
Thanks, Lain, that would be nice.” I smiled, feeling a grateful rush of relief.

On the elevator ride down to the concierge level, Laini looked at me questioningly and asked me how I was doing.
“I’m fine,” I replied, and gave her the same exterminator yarn I’d given Amanda. They’ve been through so much lately; the last thing I wanted was for them to worry about me.

“
Are you sure?” she asked again, arms crossed, looking unconvinced.

“
Absolutely, positively. Why do you ask?”

“
I had a dream last night,” she began, then hesitated, as if unsure how to proceed. “And I feel like I should tell you something.”

This
, of course, couldn’t be good. I waited.

With no response from me, she
brushed a blonde tress from her face and backed off. “You know, it was probably just a bad dream. I’m being silly.”

“
Okay, give it to me straight,” I said. “I can take it.”

She took her time, choosing her words carefully,
“Sooo, I dreamt that your home was sort of . . . invaded a little bit.”

“
Invaded a little bit?”

“
It was just a smidgeon of a dark force that seeped in and slightly contaminated everything. But it didn’t just stay there, it followed you when you left your home.”

Her premonition was frighteningly on target, and the nagging fear caught up in my throat once again.
I tried to cover my discomfort with a smile. “It was probably all about those mice that set up housekeeping in my attic,” I explained. “That and the exterminator. I’m fine. Really,” I lied. “Don’t worry about me. Just enjoy having Mark back.”

She looked doubtful.
“Okay, if you say so, but just in case, I brought you something. She reached into her purse and pulled out a plastic bag containing a feather and bundle of sage. “Take this. Have you ever done a sage ceremony before?”

“
No, but don’t you just light up and wave it around?” I asked as I opened the bag, pulled out the sage and inhaled its distinctive, pungent scent.

She stared at me
affectionately with soft blue eyes. “No, Vic, there’s a little more to it than that.” She stopped talking when we reached the concierge level and passed Albert on our way to the parking garage elevator. Once the doors closed and we had privacy again she continued. “There’s no one, prescribed procedure for doing the smudging ceremony, just remember that God and your spirit guides understand and bless your actions. It helps if you have some appropriate music to play, and no, Tina Turner is not appropriate.”

I
grinned. The girl knows me too well.

She continued,
“Anything with Native American flutes would be good. I can lend you a CD if you need one.”

We arrived at the parking garage level
and she continued her instructions as I cautiously led her to my car.

“
Also, if you still have any of that protection candle left that I gave you, light it. To begin with, open all closets, cabinets, and drawers, then light the sage,” she directed. “Once it’s smoldering, say a prayer, asking God’s blessings that the smoke will trap any negative energy or bad spirits. Smudge yourself first, starting at your feet and move up around your body and head. Then in each room, using the feather, lightly push the smoke around the doorway and into the room to all corners and through the middle.”

She
gracefully moved her arms in demonstration. “When you’re done, say another prayer of thanks to God and your spirit guides, asking for the smoke to carry away all negativity from your home. Open your windows and doors to allow the smoke to flow out, and the fresh air and good energy to flow in.”

“
Thanks, Lain,” I said with a heartfelt smile when we reached my car. “I’ll do that right after the pests in my condo have been completely annihilated. Promise. You’re a good friend.” I found my phone right where I’d left it: face up on the passenger seat. I flipped it open and saw that there were no new messages. Disappointed, I closed and slipped it back into its cubby hole in my purse. On our way back to the elevators, trekking through the empty garage, I covertly scanned left and right, hoping I wasn’t being obvious. My hand rested inside my bag on the Taser. One false move and he’d get it right between the eyes, or somewhere close enough.

Safely b
ack in the elevator, on the way to the penthouse, Laini regarded me with a suspicious gaze and tried one last time to pry the truth out of me. “Are you sure you’re okay, Vic? You seem a little jumpy. Is it that stalker guy? Has he done anything more? You’d tell me if something was going on, wouldn’t you?”

I told her that he had
gone away, just disappeared into thin air, and that she was being concerned about nothing. But putting one over on a woman with super-sized intuition is a distinct skill I had yet to learn. It’s like trying to beat a lie detector while it’s giving you the skunk eye. She was not persuaded.

Mercifully, we were interrupted when Amanda greeted us at her door with martinis, shaken, not stirred, she pointed out.
We joined the men and sipped our drinks. Courtney, in his witty, cynical style, told a few droll jokes and I laughed in spite of myself. The more he spoke, the more attractive he became and I felt myself beginning to warm up to him. Laini eyed me with concern from time to time, but I kept up my ruse and tried to appear cheerful and relaxed.

At
seven o’clock on the dot, Amanda ceremoniously announced that dinner was served. She ushered us into the formal dining room, adjacent to her open kitchen and separated from the “great room” by a low wall topped with plants, and glass sculptures. Delicious scents emanated from the kitchen as we gathered around the glamorous table. Flickering candlelight from a pair of large silver candelabras cast a warm glow on the china and crystal, and carefully folded linen napkins in the shape of standing fans graced every place setting.

“
Now, Leland,” Amanda began, “you sit at the head of the table, and, Mark, let’s put you at the other end. Then, Vic, you and Courtney take those two seats and . . . oh no, that’s not going to work. That way someone who’s not a boy will be sitting next to someone else who’s also not a boy. I’ll take the end seat.” We shifted back around the table and took our seats.

T
he dinner was catered so that Amanda could relax and enjoy the evening, and a young, dark-haired woman in a starched black and white uniform served the first course, a scrumptious Roquefort pear salad. While unfolding my napkin and placing it on my lap I snuck a curious peek at Courtney. In between bites I made small talk, trying to get to know him better.

“
So tell me about your work, Courtney,” I said, in my most sophisticated, society woman demeanor. “What kind of writing do you do? Fiction? Non-fiction?”

“
I’ve just published my fourth book, actually,” he said as he picked at his salad. It’s the latest in a series of books based on the life of Friedrich Nietzsche, the nomadic years. Before the breakdown of course.”

“
Of course.”

He turned to me.
“Are you familiar with Nietzsche?”

“
Yes, wasn’t he that German guy in “The Sound of Music?”

He looked at me with
disdain.

“
Just kidding,” I said, trying to redeem myself. “I’m smarter than I look. He was a German existentialist philosopher.” I got the feeling Courtney didn’t appreciate smart-alecks. I tried again, “So what do you do when you’re not writing?”

He gave me a hollow smile.
“Among other things, I recently ended a sixteen-month relationship with a woman of whom I was extremely fond.”

“
Oh, I’m sorry—”

“
Or, rather, her husband ended it,” he said as he lifted his napkin and dabbed at his mouth.

“
You mean her ex-husband.”

“
No. Her husband.”

“
Oh, so she was separated.”

“
No.”

I shot a quick glance at Amanda and she winced. Here was a man who was practically bragging about
having an affair with a married woman. Thanks tons, Fleland, I thought.

“
How about you?” he countered. “Are you involved with anyone at the moment?”

“
Well, I have a stalker, so in a way, yes.”

“
A stalker—are you joking?”

“
I wish.”

“
What does this stalker do?”

“
He calls a lot and sends flowers. He’s really quite attentive.” Then, remembering my fibs to Laini and Amanda, I added, “I haven’t heard from him in a while though. I think he’s left me for a younger victim.”

Amanda cleared her throat and asked loudly if everyone was ready for the next course. Then she rang a
tiny golden bell and the caterer removed the salad dishes and replaced them with steaming plates of scallops in roasted pepper-butter sauce served over a bed of brown rice.

Throughout the main course I inundated Courtney with
idiotic questions and smartass commentary until I felt I had sufficiently turned him off. Over dessert, a decadent, dark chocolate mousse, he turned his complete attention to Leland and ignored me. Mission accomplished.

Following a quick after-
dinner drink in the living room, Mark and Laini stood up and apologized for having to eat and run, but they were on their way to Cannon Beach, Oregon for a second honeymoon of sorts. Courtney took the opportunity to make his apologies as well, mentioning some vague early morning commitment, thanked Amanda, limply shook my hand while avoiding eye contact, then followed them out the door.

When Amanda returned from seeing them out, she flopped down on the sofa next to
Leland, slipped off her sandals, and rested her feet on the coffee table. “So, tell me, Vic, other than the deplorable affair he mentioned, what did you think of Courtney?”

“
For starters, did you know he’s been married four times and has six kids? His youngest is in pre-school.” I looked at Amanda and she turned to Leland.

“
Did you know this, Leland?” she asked.